


everything burned, as promised

by joban_disaster



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, SHIELD found Bucky first, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joban_disaster/pseuds/joban_disaster
Summary: What's left of SHIELD finds him first. Steve finds him second.





	everything burned, as promised

_“Where is he?”_

Steve, hefting shield and a look like thunder, kicks the doors to the control room open so hard they leave dents in the walls. The technicians in the room freeze as he strides in.

Phil Coulson pivots to look at him, expression placid. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Captain.”

“Don’t bullshit me right now,” Steve growls. “I know you have him in custody. _Where is he?_ ”

“That’s beyond your clearance level,” Coulson says coolly and turns back to his panel.

Steve hurls his shield viciously into the monitor. Metal screams and sparks fly. A technician shrieks. Someone whispers, “Get the Black Widow. _Now_.”

Coulson slowly turns, eyes narrowing. “You’re on thin ice, Rogers.”

“Tell me where he is,” hisses Steve, “or I will _raze this entire operation to the ground.”_ The icy fury in his voice leaves no doubt about the sincerity of his promise.

“Better just tell him,” Maria Hill murmurs, standing behind Coulson's shoulder. Her voice is resigned. “He’s not going to give up until you do, and we have more important things to do than play keep-away.”

Coulson sighs and fixes Steve with a gimlet stare. “Fine. Sublevel four, block E.”

“Fuck you, _Phil_ ,” Steve spits, spinning on his heel and stalking out of the room. The battered doors don’t survive his exit.

Before he resettles his features into a neutral expression, Coulson almost looks regretful for a moment. “Agent Hill, if you wouldn’t mind babysitting the good captain?”

Hill, composed as ever, nods and trots off in the wake of Steve’s path of destruction.

 

 

Steve almost bares his teeth at her when she catches up to him rounding the corner. “Are you going to try and stop me?”

“The director's an idiot if he thought he could keep you off the warpath,” she says, "and I'm sorry. I had orders."

Steve snarls, “ _Damn_ your orders,” and spins on his heel and continues down the corridor.

Hill's mouth flattens into a pale line, but she straightens her back and follows.

 

 

Steve’s shoulders tighten progressively as they move down towards the lower levels until they reach sublevel four and, with a curse, he brutally shoves the doors open.

“Whoa, Cap!” Tony exclaims, taken aback, from where he’s bent over the console panel with several of the members of the CIT division. “What’s the rush?”

“Open Block E _now_ ,” Steve grits out. “I won’t ask again.”

“Why?” asks Tony, eyebrows flying up towards his hairline. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Steve stares flintily at him. “Coulson took something of mine. I want it back.”

“Jesus, you woke up on the dramatic side of the bed today,” Tony mutters, eyes wide.

Natasha’s voice sounds from behind them: “Let him in.” Hill glances back at her and Natasha winces apologetically, body taut-tense. She's expecting a fight. 

Tony starts. “I’m going to attach a fucking bell to you, you know that? Like a cat. Or a court jester.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Steve husks, striding past the console towards the block doors. Tony opens his mouth to protest, then just leaves it hanging open when Steve hauls back and kicks the doors off their hinges.

“Those were reinforced steel,” Hill says lightly.

“Put it on my tab,” Steve flings at her over his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Tony, finding his voice, rushes after Steve. “ _Cap!"_

Natasha quietly says, "Steve."

Steve whips around to face her, lips skinning back over his teeth. “You know what? For a moment there, I thought I’d finally found another team. An organization I could trust. A place I could _belong_ , seventy years after I should have been dead. I _should_ have died,” he growls, “but they couldn’t leave goddamn _fuckin'_  well enough alone, so here we are. Should have known better, trusting a group of—“ and he gives Hill a scathing look.

“ _Steve_ ," Natasha repeats, so calm they can almost see her reviewing the handling manual— _d_ _o not provoke subject, do not startle subject with sudden moves, do not pass Go—_  in her head. "Tony doesn’t know,” she says. “The team doesn’t know. Didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Tony’s nearly bouncing off his feet with curiosity. At some point, Clint slipped in behind Natasha, and he fixes the room with a bemused stare.

“Coulson has the Winter Soldier in custody,” Natasha sighs, “and didn’t tell any of us. Until I found out this morning.”

Tony sucks a breath in through his teeth. “Wow. Snaky.”

Steve shoots them all a stormy glare, nostrils flaring like a bull's in the ring. “I don’t have time for this. Follow if you want. I don’t give a fuck anymore,” and he stalks down the corridor, body language screaming at any hapless wanderers to get out of his way _fast_.

“Hell,” Hill mutters, and paces after him. The entire entourage follows, Tony pestering Natasha until she hisses at him to _L_ _eave it the fuck alone, Stark._

 

 

They slam to a halt in a circular room, lit only by monitors and light from the surrounding cells. Only one is occupied: a dark-haired man sits, knees tucked up loosely to his chest, in a far corner. When Steve sucks in a harsh breath, James Buchanan Barnes raises his head and fixes Steve with pale, heavy-lashed eyes. He gets to his feet in one efficient movement, almost unnaturally graceful when he presses his palm to the glass. His lips part slightly, silently.

The room full of SHIELD employees turns to stare haplessly at Captain America, haloed by the blued light. “Captain Rogers,” one of the guards says carefully, “we have express orders not to let anyone in that cell.”

“You have five seconds to open the door,” Steve says flatly, “before I start breaking bones.”

(“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Tony hisses. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying when someone takes your stuff?”)

Steve starts forward. The guards tense, hands drifting to their weapons. Heading Steve off with her entire body, Hill catches the techs’ eyes. “Do what he says.”

They snap to attention. Barnes watches, sniper-still, as the cell door slides smoothly open.

Steve steps fluidly into the room. “They didn’t tell me, Buck,” he tells him quietly, fervently, “I came as soon as I heard.”

“Are you real,” Barnes rasps, "this time, please be real, Steve, I don't think I can take it again if you're not," and Steve takes one step forward, then another until he’s tugging the other man into his chest, kissing Barnes' mouth like he needs it to breathe and he’s just realized he's been suffocating. Barnes melts into him with a ragged exhale.

 

 

("You know, that explains a _lot_ ," Natasha says out loud.)

("Welcome to the Steve Rogers Show," Tony mutters to Clint, eyes wide, "never a dull moment around here.")

(Clint just shrugs. "Pretty sure that's been the M.O. since 1918." He winces. "Oh, Coulson  _fucked_ _up_.")

 

 

“Christ, Bucky,” Steve gasps, and then he’s spinning to bristle at the rest of the room, murder in his eyes. " _I'm taking him home._ "

"Captain _Rogers!_ " the guard squawks, paling. "You can't just—"

" _Maria,_ _"_ bites out Steve, and Hill groans. 

"Call Coulson," she says simply to Natasha. "Tell him we're going to have to re-evaluate our plan of action."

Steve's tucking his leather jacket around Barnes' broad shoulders. Barnes looks exhausted, smaller than he ever did in the propaganda photos, worn wan and white. He leans his forehead against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and Steve strokes a protective palm down the nape of his neck. "I got you now," he says. "I got you."

"Can we rest now?" Barnes murmurs. Only the sensitivity of the microphones in the cell makes it audible to the viewers. "I'm so tired, Stevie. I feel like I've been awake for a hundred years."

"I got you," Steve says again, and the tears on his cheeks spill like silver over Barnes' dark hair.


End file.
